


Neighbors

by highspeedgays (snowonpalecheeks)



Series: SouMako Week 2014 [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Best Friends, Coming Out, Confessions, Crossover, Elektal Delusion crossover, Elektal Delusion manga, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Neighbors, SouMako Week, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowonpalecheeks/pseuds/highspeedgays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Elektal Delusion" manga crossover. In which Sousuke and Makoto are childhood friends; Sousuke has confessed to Makoto that he's gay and that he's going to start dating guys. Makoto isn't sure how to take this; it makes him feel funny inside (and not necessarily in a bad way!!). When he goes next door to make it up to Sousuke, he accidentally sees something he definitely wasn't supposed to. (See tags for more info.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the premise from "Elektal Delusion" -- two best friends living next door to one another and sharing a split balcony, in which one friend confesses he's gay -- and applied it to SouMako for the SouMako week "crossover" prompt. This story doesn't really follow the ED storyline; I only wanted to take that basic idea and build on it. So I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (P.S. I LOVE THIS MANGA - I even own the whole series so far in Japanese from amazon.jp. I highly recommend it!)

Makoto rolled over on his bed and stretched. It was already this late? Wow, he’d been studying longer than he thought.

As if it had understood, his stomach growled loudly.

“Okay, okay. Maybe there’s food in the kitchen…”

But when he checked, he found that his parents hadn’t bought groceries for the week yet. The cupboards were mostly bare, though there was a can of mackerel (he was pretty sure that was Haruka’s from ages ago) and a bottle of ramune (probably Ren’s). Everything else was condiments. Since his parents weren’t home -- they were attending a parent-teacher night at their school -- Makoto made the inevitable decision: he’d go to the convenience store on the corner and get something pre-made.

It was on his way back, swinging a bag of drinks and meat buns and microwaveable katsudon, that Makoto noticed the light was on in Sousuke’s room.

The boys had lived side-by-side since their second year of elementary, and they had been close all along. Their personalities somehow matched up pretty well, and Makoto considered himself lucky to have a friend like Sousuke. They did most everything together -- walked to school and back, studied, played basketball, swam. They spent the night in each other’s rooms and whispered in the dark. They had even watched _porn_ together for the first time -- Makoto had protested and Sousuke had been curious, and it had left them both wondering just how the human body could possible twist into this position or that, and really, the women didn’t look that happy with the situation, and the men had been so... _big_...that it was all rather intimidating and...well, they had shared their own insecurities and discomfort with that, as well.

Their apartments were constructed with opposing layouts, so that Makoto’s bedroom was beside Sousuke’s and the two boys shared a connected balcony that was divided in half by a short wall. If Makoto leaned around the edge of the wall, he could see into his friend’s room and if he reached around far enough, he could tap the glass with his hand. Occasionally one or the other would get up the courage to even stand on the railing and scurry around the edge of the wall to land on the opposite balcony next door. It was dangerous, though, and their parents had forbidden it more than once, not that it completely stopped them.

It was such a relief to know that no matter what happened, Sousuke would always be right by his side, just on the other side of his bedroom wall, supporting him. It was the give and take kind of friendship that would last forever if Makoto had anything to say about it.

That said, there were still things about Sousuke that could surprise Makoto.

A few days before, they had been walking home from school and Sousuke had just come right out and told Makoto that he thought he was... _you know... **gay**_. It wasn’t that big of a deal, really; Makoto would be friends with Sousuke no matter who he dated. But still...the confession had caught him off guard, and Makoto hated that. He’d thought he knew his friend better. But then Sousuke had taken it a step farther and admitted that he was going to start dating a guy from their school and...and it had _done something_ to screw up the inside of Makoto’s chest. It had tumbled his feelings this way and that. He didn’t mind that Sousuke was gay, that Sousuke liked guys, but every time Makoto thought about Sousuke and some other guy holding hands or kissing or...eh, _you know_...he would tense up all over. His jaw would lock tightly, and his teeth would grind together. He would forget to breathe, and his hands would ball into fists.

It was an overreaction, and Makoto had spent the better part of the week examining those feelings, trying to sort out where they were coming from and why, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He had finally decided he was probably just in shock. It was definitely shocking for your best friend to suddenly confess something like that after you had seen him date girls on and off for the last two years. Granted, he never really stayed with any of them, and they hadn’t been serious girlfriends, but...well...for the record, Makoto had dated a few girls himself and none of them had been particularly serious relationships either. But he’d liked them and treated them well, and _things_ had definitely happened between them -- it was embarrassing to admit it to anyone but himself, but he had blushed steadily and just let them do what they wanted, and it had been enjoyable, but not particularly worth all the fuss. He had assumed it was the same for Sousuke. Besides, he didn’t understand how Sousuke could say he was gay when he’d never dated a boy, at least as far as Makoto could tell, but he supposed it was something you just knew about yourself. Like Haruka’s preference for mackerel and Rei’s love of all things beautiful…?

 _Or something like that_ , he thought as he entered his family’s apartment. Perhaps he was overthinking it? Makoto thought about all of these things as he dropped the bag on the kitchen cabinet and started serving food onto a plate. He microwaved the katsudon and carried the whole mess up to his room to continue studying.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Sousuke, who was probably doing the same right there on the other side of his bedroom wall.

Did he think Makoto hated him now? He hadn’t really talked to him much since he’d learned the truth. It wasn’t on purpose, but he didn’t know what to say or think around him anymore. All of Makoto’s confusion had really started to affect his thoughts and he wasn’t sure how he would react if they started talking about it again. He actually suspected that if he dug too deeply into what was causing his chest to tighten and his heart to race, he wouldn’t like what he found.

_(His subconscious murmured softly, still soft enough for Makoto to pretend he hadn’t noticed: why not **me?** why didn’t he choose **me?** why doesn’t he want **me?** )_

Or worse, it would confuse him even more. Instead, he made sure to avoid investigating it any further and tried to focus on his math homework. But after trying a few of the practice problems and realizing he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, Makoto took off his reading glasses and laid back on his bed. The ceiling above didn’t offer any consolation.

He _knew_ what he needed. He needed Sousuke’s help.

Normally he wouldn’t want to bother him, but they had come to rely on each other over the years for this sort of thing, and if Makoto didn’t ask he might not be able to finish…

He took a deep breath and rolled off the bed. Maybe this would be for the best. They would start talking about something really mundane, and they could pick up their friendship right where they’d left off. Makoto caught his own reflection in the sliding glass of his balcony door before he opened it and his smile wasn’t that convincing, but he decided he didn’t have much of a choice anyway. Shoring up what little courage he had -- why did he have to be so non-confrontational? -- Makoto stepped out into the cool night air.

Then, he leaned around the half-wall that separated the two halves of the balcony to tap at Sousuke’s glass and his heart practically stopped in his chest.

The blinds were mostly closed, but through the space that remained, Makoto could see clearly. Sousuke was lying on his bed, one knee resting against the wall -- _the wall they **shared**_ \-- his other leg extended out across the quilted comforter. His head tilted back and to the side. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His pants were slouched down around his thighs, and one hand worked furiously between his hips while the other reached up to pull his own hair. Makoto could hear Sousuke’s soft panting and moaning -- _**moaning**_ \-- through the thin gap where he must have left the sliding door open to let in a bit of the breeze.

And he stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to move for far longer than he should have. He couldn’t convince his currently short-circuiting brain that he definitely should not be spying on Sousuke, that he shouldn’t be so focused on the way Sousuke’s hand moved up and down, that he shouldn’t be wondering what that hand would feel like on himself instead. No, he should step back and give his friend some privacy, he knew that, but he stood there, mesmerized, absorbing every detail until, finally, he could tell that Sousuke was getting closer to climax. His hips began to buck up off the bed and his moans became louder, punctuated by soft grunts and mumbled words that Makoto couldn’t make out at first. Until finally, finally, a single word slipped through and hit Makoto full on in the chest: “ _Makoto…!_ ”

Sousuke was...was _moaning his name_?

Why?

Why would he?

Perhaps he’d misheard?

But that didn’t explain the shiver that skittered down his spine to settle warmly in the pit of his stomach. Sousuke had moaned his name…

Despite all of his better instincts, Makoto kept watching, fully ashamed of the part of him hoping that Sousuke would say it again, even just once. _Please_...he wanted to hear his name whisper-moaned in desperation _just one more time…_

But his patience wasn’t rewarded, and when Sousuke finally came, he came silently and with a hand tightly clasped over his mouth. It was Makoto who let out a ragged breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It was his own mouth that was left hanging open, his own chest heaving in time with Sousuke’s, his fingertips digging into the concrete of the wall that kept them apart.

Makoto dropped his head against his arm, panting softly, suddenly very aware of the way his own pants had tightened uncomfortably. His cheeks burned, more afraid of what it could mean than he could admit, even to himself, just yet. He had never seen that side of Sousuke and it was...it was _beautiful_.

But then, Sousuke said _**it**_ again and Makoto’s last shreds of dignity dissolved:

**“MA-MAKOTO?!?”**

Makoto looked up -- it was a knee-jerk reaction -- and Sousuke... _Sousuke_ was looking right at him. Their eyes met and Sousuke’s widened impossibly before Makoto tore back around the wall and slammed the sliding glass door closed behind him.

If he’d expected Sousuke to be too embarrassed to come after him, he was wrong. Only a few seconds later, Sousuke was clinging to the wall, scrambling around the edge of the railing, climbing down onto Makoto’s side of the balcony, and banging on the glass. “Hey, c’mon, open the door.”

Makoto had retreated to the safety of his bed, knees curled up to his chest, with the covers pulled up over his head, huddled like a child hiding from monsters in the dark, not his best friend. Maybe if he didn’t reply Sousuke would eventually go away? But the light was on and the blinds were open enough, and he knew every detail of the room was visible to someone standing just outside the window. Sousuke could see him clearly, Makoto was sure; god, this was embarrassing.

He slowly, s l o w l y sat up and let the covers slide away, but his eyes stayed firmly fixed on the floor somewhere in the vicinity of the sliding glass door. He couldn’t look up, didn’t dare look up, because he wasn’t sure what expression his face making at just that moment.

“Makoto…” Sousuke must have pressed his forehead to the glass because his name was followed by a soft thunk. “I’m not going away. We need to talk.”

Makoto bit the inside of his cheek. Sousuke sounded so hurt. And it was all his own fault. He had to do something. He had to make it better. He had to...he just...had to… as if his body had reached some kind of independent epiphany, it moved on its own. Makoto rolled off the bed and walked a bit unsteadily across his room to the sliding glass door that stood between himself and...and _everything_ (and he hoped, prayed _everything_ didn’t include the end of their friendship, because he didn’t think he could handle it).

Sousuke was watching him with wild eyes, somehow just as unsteady as Makoto felt.

“Sousuke…” Makoto started, but he had no idea what to say. What were you supposed to say to your friend after watching him... _you know_? That he’d said Makoto’s name was secondary as far as Makoto’s sense of propriety was concerned. He was more worried about Sousuke at the moment. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, and it was far too inadequate for all that Makoto was feeling in that moment because he wasn’t actually sorry at all.

He would never forget the sound of his name on Sousuke’s lips; it would fuel his fantasies for years to come.

His cheeks flushed at the memory and he heard Sousuke swear under his breath, though it might have been a bit louder if the glass wasn’t separating them.

“Makoto, can we just talk? Inside? I’m...I’m not angry at you, if that’s what you think.” Sousuke shivered a little. He crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his hands along the bare skin between his shoulders and elbows and--

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!!” Makoto immediately opened the glass door and ushered Sousuke inside. He’d completely forgotten that Sousuke wasn’t wearing a shirt and the breeze outside had been cool even through Makoto’s hoodie, so he must have been freezing out there on the balcony and, wow, was he ever a horrible host. No matter his own feelings about the situation, Makoto felt ten times worse for leaving Sousuke out in the cold just so he could protect himself from his own embarrassment.

“Thanks…” Sousuke said, but it was faint.

The softness of it had Makoto looking up suspiciously, ready to divine whatever was wrong and fix it immediately. But Sousuke’s eyes were so intensely focused on Makoto that he had to look away again. His own skin was overheated, so he pulled the hoodie over his head and shoved it toward Sousuke’s bare chest. “Y-you should wear it. To, um, to warm up.” “Thanks…” Sousuke said again, and it was still fainter, and he didn’t move to put the hoodie on. He just clutched it against his chest, which was rising and falling roughly in time with Makoto’s own ragged breaths. They were standing so close, and Makoto was hyper-aware of every movement, every twitch of Sousuke’s body.

“Are you okay?” he mumbled in between them, eyes firmly fixed on Sousuke’s Adam’s apple so as not to have to meet that intense gaze again. It wasn’t that Makoto was afraid of what Sousuke might say or do to him -- he was afraid of what he might do to Sousuke given the chance.

Sousuke’s voice whispered in Makoto’s memory: “ _Makoto…!_ ”

“...koto? Makoto?” Sousuke’s hand was on Makoto’s shoulder, and now that he was just down to a t-shirt himself, he could trace the heat of each of his long fingers as they curled around the angle of the joint. As they trailed up a bit to the exposed skin of his collar bone. As they laced into the feathery hair at the nape of his neck…

“S-Sousuke, what are you...doing…?” Makoto looked up in time to catch the look in Sousuke’s eyes before he tugged him closer and pressed their lips together. Electricity crawled down Makoto’s spine. It crackled through his veins and right down to his bones, and rather than terminate in the pit of his stomach, it mixed and melded with the heat that had settled there earlier to ignite something completely different than any of the girls he had fooled around with before.

Makoto’s whole world became _Sousuke_ \-- his taste, his scent, the heavy press of his hands as they roamed his body unchecked, the exploratory fingers that slid easily into the front of Makoto’s track pants and wrapped around him with such care and...and _rightness_ that Makoto couldn’t even muster the decency to appear shocked or blush deeply or pull away. He was stuck fast to Sousuke, arms wrapped around his shoulders, his own hips bucking into the powerful hand he’d been watching only minutes before, and rather than take a step back in mortified apology, Makoto pressed his face into the crook of Sousuke’s neck and shoulder and breathed him in.

For the first time in several days, the knot that had kept Makoto’s chest tied up ever since Sousuke’s sudden announcement loosened and he could finally, finally feel something other than anxious around Sousuke: relief. It was incredible what sort of clarity had sneaked up on him while he was wrapped up in Sousuke’s arms and being carried perilously closer to a messy, desperate orgasm by his own best friend. He could finally put a name to the oppressive dread that had stalked him all week, and with understanding came enlightenment, came acceptance.

“I’m sorry. I-I was jealous…” Makoto muttered against the damp, salty skin of Sousuke’s neck. “...I was disappointed…” He pushed Sousuke a little, and as expected one step backward put Sousuke against the bedroom wall -- _the wall they **shared**_ \-- and it was so incredibly right that Makoto’s lips cracked into a smile.

But it only lasted a breath before being shattered by Sousuke’s fingertips slipping up and down his back beneath his t-shirt and the nip of Sousuke’s teeth against Makoto’s ear before he whispered, “I didn’t want to lose you.” His hand stuttered long enough to push Makoto’s track pants down a bit and out of the way before resuming, pumping faster, practically dragging Makoto’s breaths out with the rhythm. “Makoto, I should have been more honest. This was always...it was always about you...” His deep voice slinked down into Makoto’s guts. It curled up between his hips and made a home there, warm and purring and exuding the kind of lustful _need_ that would embarrass Makoto later, but for now only pushed him to brace his shoulders against Sousuke and move his hips in time with Sousuke’s hand. He was fucking himself into Sousuke’s grip, ready, beyond ready, to find the kind of release that he’d witnessed in Sousuke’s room.

His lips dripped Sousuke’s name in a steady chant, but the closer he got to release, the choppier the syllables became until _Sousuke_ became mangled into _‘suke_ and _Sou-nnngh…!_ and a desperately mewled _pleeeease_ just before every muscle in his body tensed and the world went dark as he closed his eyes and clung to his best friend. To his...to _Sousuke_ , who was whispering softly beside his ear, encouraging him to breathe, pressing soft kisses to his cheek and his temple and his forehead, anywhere he could reach, and each kiss registered dully against the overwhelming pleasure that had blanked out Makoto’s mind.

Sometime later, after Makoto’s trembling legs had led Sousuke to move them to the bed and clean them up and they had dozed for a bit beneath the covers, Makoto resurfaced to find himself encircled by Sousuke’s arms. His soft breath fanned out over the top of Makoto’s head and his heart beat against the spot where Makoto’s cheek was pressed into his chest.

He knew he should get up. He should ask if Sousuke wanted food. He should finish studying. He should do so many things that didn’t include burrowing a bit deeper under the covers and placing his ear against Sousuke’s chest. That didn’t include listening to his heart beat and letting it lull him into that half-light between waking and sleeping, where everything is peaceful and there are no consequences of getting too attached to someone he wasn’t even sure he was allowed to attach to. And it didn’t include the soft rumble of Sousuke laughing quietly at Makoto’s gesture and pulling him closer, clutching onto him as if he never wanted to let him go.

Makoto knew he shouldn’t be doing any of those things, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind at just that moment. Sousuke was here, the painful ache in his chest was gone, and perhaps -- though he didn’t want to assume -- something else was blooming in its stead.

**.end**

 


End file.
